Endgame

Chapter 4

AURORA

Eventually, after a million excruciating hours, my fiancé removed my gag and restraints. While he did, he threatened me to “Be a good girl and leave here quietly with me, or you won’t like the consequences.”

Without much of a choice, I complied. Together, we left the courthouse.

Everett was the picture of calm, while I shivered on the way to his car. He didn’t care that I was squirming from a full bladder. Or that my senses were overloaded by the sudden light and noise after so long in the dark.

He wanted me to get to his car, and nothing more.

So here I am, trapped again.

His driver pulls up at Everett’s front door at the end of the long driveway. He lives on the outskirts of Boston, like my parents, but they’re not neighbors. Thank God for small favors.

But who cares about them? Not me.

“Everett, I have to go to the bathroom.” I shift on the car seat. “Please.”

“Patience.”

He climbs out of the car, walks over to my side, and unbuckles me as if I were a child.

Then he grabs my wrist.

“No, let me go,” I plead.

His narrowed eyes brook no argument, so I don’t bother. There are other, more important things to worry about than this particular power play.

“Fine.” I let him drag me into his home.

We go past his silent staff. Past the rest of the first floor of his home that’s…black. Black wooden floors. Black furniture. Everything is so dark.

Nothing is darker than my future husband.

We keep walking up the stairs to the second floor where sconces line the walls of the silent halls.

“Get in.” He beckons me into another dark room, his expression one of irritation.

I run inside, foolishly turning my back on my enemy. What choice do I have? If I don’t make it to the bathroom in the next three seconds, I might die.

“I’ll be back soon,” he announces.

“Whatever.”

“Brat,” Everett mutters before he slams the door.

I hear the lock slide into place, but for the moment, it doesn’t scare me. I don’t cry or shiver.

Finally, I can relieve myself.

Once done, I lose my heels. Wash my hands and face. All that dried spit reminds me of the gag, and I shudder.

Now that I don’t have to go to the bathroom, reality sinks in.

I’m a prisoner in this room, just like I was back home, and the man who hates me holds the key to my freedom.

My eyes dance all over the place. A nervous gesture.

Like the rest of Everett’s house, everything here is black with gold undertones. The padded headboard, the vintage lamps on the bedside tables, the two tufted chairs in the seating area, and the marble fireplace.

It’s overwhelming. Expensive. Regal. It’s as dark as it is beautiful.

The lawns that I can see from over here, through the huge window, are stunning. The red, purple, green, and gray flowers scattered throughout his gardens run wild.

Yet there’s an order to the chaos. A mirror to my captor’s soul, it seems.

Fuck. What should I do?

From a nearby room, probably the one I’m sharing a wall with, I hear the water running. He’s taking a shower.

The smart thing to do would be to take advantage of this opportunity he’s given me. I could find some sort of pin and pick the lock.

But…

Where would I go? Would his staff even let me take a step out of this room? This house?

Knowing my parents’ staff, the answer is, sadly, doubtful.

Desperation settles in my bones, heavy and numbing. I decide to fight this battle another day, dropping onto the black four-poster bed.

As challenging as it is, I’m doing everything I can to maintain my sanity. Counting my breaths, clinging to logic, reminding myself that panic only gives him more power.

I’m doing it while the man who’s blackmailing me is taking a shower. Taking his time. He doesn’t have a care in the world.

As if he didn’t lock and gag me in his chambers’ closet for hours.

As if he isn’t forcing me to marry him.

As if he won’t force me to do more.

Fucker.

A caustic laugh bubbles in my throat. God, I’m pathetic, aren’t I? Calling him names in my head. Pretending to hate him, his ultimatum, and being here.

I wish it were that easy. I wish I could think of this as just another prison.

If I could only hate Everett the way I hate Winston and Molly. If only he felt like another jailor.

Thing is, he’s different.

No one had ever touched me the way he did. No one had ever looked at me like that.

Like they wanted to do vile, dirty things to me.

A chill runs up my spine. My fingers flex on the black covers before I sit up straighter.

I kick my feet in the air, but no matter what I do, I can’t shake this nervousness.

He’ll be out of the shower any minute now.

Once he’s out, what will he do to me?

The worst things imaginable.

Oh God.

What happened in his chambers was already too much.

He made me want him, and that can’t happen again.

Except…I can’t forget it.

I’m too drawn to the memory of him.

How he ground his knee between my thighs.

My hand goes to my neck, tracing the path his lips took. Remembering how warm and depraved they felt on my skin.

I’ll break you was the threat his teeth posed.

His hands caressed my body as if he knew me. Like he could tell what would make me wet.

Like he had the right to turn me on by choking me.

I scratch my throat. Wipe my mouth. Removing his memory from my body.

Being choked, gagged, or pinned up against the wall wasn’t foreplay.

He hates me.

He’ll hurt me.

Marrying him is the least of my concerns. The real nightmare will come after that. I’ll have to survive him day after day.

And so far, life has been peachy, right?

No, it hasn’t, but he can’t know that. I won’t ever tell him he can’t hurt me worse than they did.

He won’t get to use my fucked-up life against me.

The water stops running in the pipes.

A terrifying silence ensues. The fear of the unknown has my anxiety spiking.

Get up, Aurora, a voice whispers. You have to be ready when he’s back here.

What’s the use?

He’s stronger. Vicious and more calculated than I’ll ever be.

I won’t be able to overpower him.

A whooshing sound puts me on high alert.

The door to his room. He’s opened it.

The house is warm, keeping the chill of the fall outside.

Still.

Shivers run up and down my spine. My fingers dig into the covers. Eyes snap shut.

Nothing will stop him, I’m aware of that.

The way he looked at me, it was as if he wanted to punish me.

For what?

Shoplifting isn’t it. I refuse to accept this excuse. This lie.

Then why?

Doesn’t matter.

He’s coming.

I open my eyes, bracing for impact.

The door opens.

Everett’s dark presence fills the doorway.

My heart thumps erratically, as I wait for his next move. Watching him closely.

A white dress shirt hugs his lean, accentuated muscles. Midnight blue pants sit on a tapered waist. His feet are bare, elegant, and manly.

The delicious scent of his cologne permeates the room, tickling my nostrils.

He hasn’t come here empty-handed. In one hand, he holds a leather tote. He has his phone in the other.

“Aurora.” My name on his lips is a curse. An insult.

I gravitate toward him anyway. My thighs press together as I’m faced with my future husband.

The most beautiful man alive.

And yet, danger radiates off him. I can’t forget that. Even if he’s brought me…what is this? Gifts? I don’t need them. I need him to be nice, or I need him to let me go. That’s all I’ll ever need.

“Stand up,” he orders.

A baser, unfamiliar instinct pushes me off the bed. I scramble to my feet, chin dipped.

My mind rebels against it. This quick obedience, this isn’t like me.

Doing my homework, cleaning my room, “stop stealing like a petty thief”—every single one of my parents’ demands was met with resistance.

Until I was thrown into the basement, I wouldn’t heed their demands. I wouldn’t make their life easy, though I knew I’d pay for it.

This man is practically a stranger. A terrible one, at that.

Yet here I am.

Doing as I’m told.

A lamb to the slaughter.

“Your hair is a mess.”

Thrown by his comment, I cut my gaze up to find his raking over my body.

Heat floods me under his inspection, even as his expression is nothing but distaste. “Your clothes are crumpled,” he adds.

At the second insult, the urge to talk back surges within me. A tidal wave that grows from a place of hurt and resentment.

He can’t talk to me like that.

He’s the one who ruined my hair. If he hadn’t locked me up in a closet, my outfit would look as pristine as it was this morning.

Before I say a word, a metaphorical hand clamps over my mouth.

Hush. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Don’t give him an excuse to ruin you for real.

The voice is right. Wealthy, influential people hardly ever listen. And they have ways of making you pay.

I’ll have other days, other opportunities to tell him exactly what I think about him. When both of us are in a less volatile state.

“Okay,” is all I say.

Everett takes a step into the room, then a few more. The house is otherwise quiet. Either his staff is done for the day, or they shiver in fear as hard as I do.

He’s so close now that I have to look up to see him.

“This…” He nods to himself. “This is perfect.”

Perfect?

“Ha.” A nervous laugh scrapes up my throat, sharp and raw. “You—” You look annoyingly perfect yourself. You, not me. “What’s changed that I’m perfect all of a sudden?”

“Your parents have been blowing up my phone.” He tosses the device on the bed behind me, showing me exactly what he thinks about them and their phone calls.

“They’ve sent more lawyers from Larry’s firm.

I had them kicked out of my courtroom. All of them, other than the courier who got you your birth control pills. ”

Who cares about my pills?

Hope trickles into my lungs, warming my soul from the inside.

Is it possible that twenty-two years of cold winters have finally been blessed with summer?

Is it possible that Everett isn’t here to hurt me? That he’s figured out my parents aren’t overprotective; they’re just mean and abusive?

This could be a rescue mission. Marrying him so they wouldn’t be able to reach me could be his way of saving me. He might not be nice, but as long as he’s here to save me, I can take it.

This hope again, it’s a dangerous thing. A devastating emotion that builds you up only to tear you down when reality strikes. I’ve learned that lesson too many times to let my guard slip now.

Which is why I don’t get ahead of myself. Quietly as possible, I ask, “What’s my parents got to do with the way I look?”

His jaw tics. Forehead creases.

My question pissed him off. It was the wrong one to ask.

What do you ask your savior? I’ve never had one before.

“Everett, I—”

“Humiliating you, for starters. That’s fucking perfect.” His mocking tone answers my question. He cocks his head, adding, “Spoiled little rich girl.”

My foolish hope burns at the stake. Fear lurches up my throat.

This isn’t a rescue mission after all.

When my lips tremble, I turn my head to the window. Hiding this weakness. Hiding from him.

“Second.” He grabs my chin, his fingers biting into my skin as he forces my eyes to his. “Your parents will see you now. I’ll show you how powerless they really are. How you’re never getting out of this.”

My heart splinters, tearing me from the inside.

I get what’s so perfect about this situation now. It’s my downfall.

“Is that the worst you’ve got?” I’m acting proud, lifting my chin in defiance. “Taking a picture of me? Fucking do it. I’m not scared of you.”

“A picture?” His steely chuckle sends ice racing up my spine. “No, princess. A picture won’t hurt them—or you. A picture won’t get the point across.”

The sound of his bag hitting the bed makes me yelp. My body jerks, but Everett’s hold cements me into place.

Annoyed, I flatten my hands on his chest, trying to push him away.

I’d have better luck moving a mountain.

Despair is a hard fist locked around my lungs.

“Let me go,” I beg, twisting in his hold, just barely.

His free hand latches on my hip, yanking me to him. To his cock.

He’s harder than he was in his chambers. Bigger.

He isn’t ashamed of his throbbing dick. He weaponizes it against me.

A means to instill fear in me. It’s working. My face goes numb. My stomach bottoms out.

But I’m also painfully aroused.

I press my lips together to bury every ounce of fear. To silence the weak, needy sounds threatening to escape past my lips.

“Listen to me.” His eyes bore into mine. “We’re getting married. Tomorrow.”

“Old news,” I blurt out, forcing myself to be brave and taunt him. “To me and them.”

“Aurora.” Every contact point between us sends jolts of pain and humiliation through me. “Underestimating me won’t end well for you.”

His touch is possessive, a silent warning that he’s in control. As his fingers dig deeper into my flesh, his cock almost tears through both our clothes.

“What do you want, then?”

“This isn’t about what I want. This is about what’s going to happen.” His voice is strained, his control of me unrelenting. “Little by little, I’ll strip the three of you of your sense of security. From your comfortable lives.”

“You’re really going to hurt them?” Awe mixes with terror as I look at him. Finally, someone’s standing up to that couple. I don’t know why he hates them, and I don’t care. What unsettles me is knowing he probably hates me because of them. “What are you going to do?”

“You don’t deserve an answer.” Everett thrusts me into him. “I’m giving it to you anyway. Partially.”

“Well?” I hate him. I fear him. I have to hold my ground. “Talk.”

“It’ll hurt, princess.” His mouth hovers a hairbreadth from mine, electricity humming in the air around us. “I’m going to make you suffer, all of you, and by the time I’m done, you’ll be begging for death.”

I won’t. I’ll fight him every step of the way, starting now.

He already plans to do the unthinkable. At least I’ll go down with my dignity intact. Just another reason why I’ll never tell him I find him even remotely attractive. Never.

“Lucky fucking me,” I growl.

“Yes. Lucky fucking you.” Everett’s nostrils flare.

I don’t manage to say another single word.

In swift, harsh movements, he tears my jacket off me. Throws it on the floor.

We’re both on his bed now, me sitting on his lap, thrashing, needing to break free from his grip.

My fight gets me nowhere. Worse than nowhere. It makes Everett’s cock harden against me.

That’s when I stop wriggling.

That’s the moment I realize that I’m really, truly fucked.